Do Idiots Dream of Electric Sheep?
by Sunset Moth
Summary: AU Several conspiracies are afoot. Amidst it all is Jun, a mercenary for hire who is asked to assassinate the Shizuma heiress. Torn between her duty to her group and her conflicting morals, she heads to her target, katana in hand.
1. The Idiot Cast

**Do Idiots Dream of Electric Sheep?**

Disclaimer: I do not own Hayate X Blade, Mai Hime/Otome, Madlax and whatever other slight crossovers I might add.

Their respective owners each share a piece of my soul however. As do the members of the Hoshitori staff. Guys, this entire fic is for you! (With the addition of Sean who beta-reads this. Kudos.)

Oh, and before I begin, though this is technically a mega-crossover AU, you need not know any of the other fandoms to appreciate this fic. You might as well see them as OCs. Haha. That was the hope anyway. Also, the title _is_ originally from Philip Dick's _Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?_ though admittedly, they have very few similarities if any. (I should read the book sometime.)

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter One – The Idiot Cast<strong>

"I have the contract." A rough, scarred hand slid a piece of paper across the table and placed a dark, gothic-style fountain pen besides it. Embossed on the fountain pen was the gilded letter 'M' in cursive. "You need only to sign it." The sound of rustling cloth filled the room as the other occupant leaned forward to examine the contents of the contract. Smoke veiled the man's face for a moment as he exhaled slowly, letting it drift out of his lips. He took another drag from his cigarette and left it in the ashtray before picking up the pen. A name was scratched out at the very bottom line.

"She's a stubborn lass," the other man added as he reclined back. "But I hope you take care of her all the same. She is," he paused, looking for the right words to say as he clasped his hands together. His lips stretched in a thin smile. "She is family after all."

"Oh, I will."

* * *

><p>Light danced across Ayana's sleeping face in the dim light as the news on the television droned on monotonously. Jun placed a warm, red and orange polka-dotted blanket over her friend's curled up form and tucked the edges in, smiling slightly at this softer side of Ayana which Jun rarely saw. "In other news, the heiress of the Shizuma Corporation will be marrying into the…" The television closed abruptly.<p>

"Welcome home," Jun said and turned to grin at her cousin. Natsuki Kuga placed her motorcycle helmet on top of the kitchen counter, besides the remote, and leaned against the counter with a heavy sigh. She tucked strands of dark blue hair behind an ear and smiled wearily.

"Glad to be home," was the brusque reply. She looked at Ayana quizzically, one eyebrow raised. "Have you seen her do something other than play videogames this week?"

"Well, if she'd let me watch her in the bathroom while she bathes, I would have said yes, but unfortunately, that was not the case."

Natsuki crinkled her nose. "Sometimes, I have to wonder how the two of us could ever be cousins."

"Maybe a monkey was swimming in the gene pool just before Kuga Junior was born." Ayana murmured sleepily.

"That would explain Jun's fondness for climbing up trees," Natsuki replied teasingly.

"Bah, stop being such a bad influence on Ayana, Natsuki-nee," Jun grumbled.

"Bad influence?" Natsuki shook her head. "Look who's talking. At least I don't have a stash full of questionable items underneath my bed."

"You know I'm always willing to share," Jun said slyly. "In fact, I saw you looking through them once. Why did you stop? Were you embarrassed?"

A red tinge slowly made its way up to Natsuki's face. She turned away and grabbed the small haversack she carried with her. "I have a job for us," she said briskly, her tone business-like. "In fact, I have two."

"Ah, Natsuki-nee is so shy." The brunette laughed. "But Ayana is shooting daggers at my back so I won't pursue that subject any further."

"Good call," Natsuki said dryly. She placed two photographs side by side on the glass coffee table for Ayana and Jun to see. On the first picture was an old, run-down building, three storeys high, with a lighthouse at the very top, while the second one had a golden scarab with sapphire inlays placed on a velvet cushion. Tiny symbols were etched along the edges of the scarab's wings. "Three days from now, there will be an auction among the underworld's elite class, held in this very hotel. Sugiura-san is willing to pay us a hefty price to steal this beauty." Natsuki grinned wolfishly. "Right from under the noses of the most professional of thieves. Ah, doesn't that sound like fun?"

"Absolutely."

"Oh yes."

The two younger women exchanged a knowing glance and a roll of the eyes. Natsuki had a penchant for tweaking the noses of those on the wrong side of the law, and usually, it was more trouble than it was worth.

"Ayana and I will be doing that particular heist," Natsuki continued, ignoring the looks that her cousin and young friend shared. "Jun, on the other hand, will be busy assassinating some important person from a big-name company."

Jun's light smile was replaced with an unhappy frown. She didn't protest however, simply asking, "Who, when, and where?"

"The details will be provided by our client tomorrow." Natsuki replied.

They talked idly for a little while longer, mostly about how they would get the floor plans on the hotel, who would do the cooking that night, and when might Jun meet their client tomorrow, in no particular order.

Ayana, after a bit of grumbling, went to their bedroom for a proper nap, the polka-dotted blanket wrapped around her shoulders as she staggered towards the room at the end of the hallway. Once she was out of earshot, Jun turned and gave Natsuki an accusatory glare. "Since when do I take solo assassination missions?"

"Since today," Natsuki answered calmly. "Triple Speed thinks you're ready."

"And what if I don't think _I'm _ready?"

Natsuki gave her a long-suffering glare. Jun pouted and crossed her arms in silent reply. "This mission's too good to pass up, Jun. I hear the reward money is pretty big. I'd have the three of us go, normally but"—her eyes warily flickered towards the bedroom door—"_Ayana_ isn't ready for this. It's much too soon for her."

Jun sighed. "I know. But I still don't see why _I _should do it, Natsuki-nee." She put some extra emphasis on the honorific, making the older girl grimace.

"When it comes to stealth, you're the best of us three, Jun. I don't even trust _myself_ to finish this job successfully." Natsuki paused, looking at Jun thoughtfully. "Not with a lower casualty rate anyway."

"And that's supposed to make my conscience feel better?" Jun shook her head fiercely. "There's something you're not telling me."

"How about, 'we don't have much money left in the bank'? Does that satisfy you?" Natsuki demanded.

"We don't?"

"I had to pay for the hospital expenses—both Ayana's and Someya-san's." Natsuki explained, her gaze steady. "Now do you understand?"

Jun fell silent, her anger gone. Finally, she asked, "How is she anyway?"

"The scar is healing nicely, or so I heard from Kamijou-san." Natsuki bit her lip. "If you really don't want to do it, I'll call Triple Speed now. I heard she just came back from a bloodbath in Gazth-Sonika," Natsuki spoke, referring to one of the best assassins money could buy, "so maybe Triple Speed can ask her instead—"

"I'll do it," Jun interrupted her. "I may not be as good, but I'll give a try anyway." She flashed her cousin a proud grin. "Then, all those years of infiltrating into the public baths and peeping at those luscious masterpieces will have finally paid off!"

"…You're a girl. You don't need to infiltrate into the _girls'_ public bath."

* * *

><p>The air whistled as the train flew past Momoka's bent figure. She took long, deep breaths, cursing as she found a pillar to lean against. She had ran all the way from her building two blocks from the train station, but unfortunately, the train had already shut its doors when she skidded to a stop at the platform.<p>

"Just great," she muttered to herself and straightened her back. Her chest still moved rhythmically as she took in as much air as she could.

"You're early today." It was a statement, not a question.

Momoka turned her gaze to glare at Kijimiya who was standing a few metres away. "Not early enough," she muttered darkly.

"Oh? Is that so?" Kijimiya smiled thinly. "What's the rush anyway? Are you in any hurry to come home? I wasn't aware you were that attached to your," she paused, eyeing Momoka with a teasing glint, "roommate."

"I was hoping that I wouldn't have to spend the train ride home bickering with you," Momoka growled.

"Bickering?" the other girl asked innocently. "I wasn't aware we were bickering." Kijimiya smoothened her rumpled skirt, making Momoka blink in realization. She had been running too. "Anyway, I'll be imposing myself to you again, if you don't mind. I've already bought dinner." She gestured at the plastic bag she carried in one arm, smiling slightly.

"Fine," Momoka said acidly. "But you are not to sit besides Isuzu-san again. You made her feel uncomfortable the last time you were over." Her frown deepened. "You even made your friend, Sagara-san, uncomfortable." She looked at Kijimiya thoughtfully. "Is she coming over too?"

"Of course," Kijimiya said offhandedly. "She would be lonely if you didn't invite her as well."

"I didn't _invite_ anyone," the brunette retorted. "If Isuzu-san wasn't so gosh darned nice, I wouldn't even let you _in_ our apartment."

"Well obviously she would want _me_ over to brighten your dull dinners together."

"We were plenty happy without you."

"Now, now. There's no need to cover your weaknesses. Not to a friend."

Momoka was quite grateful when the train finally arrived at that point. Talking to Kijimiya just riled her further, and she didn't want to see Isuzu's concerned face directed at her. The last time she went home angry, the other girl had practically cowered in her presence.

She massaged her forehead furiously, trying to remove the knots of tension forming in her temple. She sat between an old lady playing with her cell phone, and a young man reading a dog-eared paperback. She shot one last withering glare at Kijimiya before closing her eyes, the rhythmic sound of the train plunging forwards making her feel calmer.

The rest of the walk home was silent. Momoka refused to reply to any of Kijimiya's attempts at conversation, her eyes simply trained at the small apartment building not far from the train station. She nodded absentmindedly to a neighbour taking out the trash and bounded up the steps to the second floor, not waiting for her companion. When the door opened, she gave Isuzu a quick peck before walking past her to nod at Sagara who was already seated in their tiny dining room. She felt Kijimiya's hot, jealous gaze directed at her and grinned, feeling immense satisfaction at pissing the girl off. It was good to be home.

* * *

><p>Benibachi leaned against her desk, staring at the city street below her with weary eyes. A cigarette dangled between her lips. She wore a pale cream blouse with ruffles along the neckline, slopping downwards to reach the waistline, and a black pencil skirt. Draped on a shoulder was a simple dark, wool blazer. Where is that assistant of mine? She wondered crossly. Soon, the city would be teeming with people, especially in the subway areas. She stifled a sigh and grinded the butt of the cigarette, leaving it in the ash tray. She wanted to be home before then.<p>

"Sensei," a breathless voice squeaked from behind. Well, _finally_. Benibachi swung her blazer around and slid her arms into the holes.

"What took you so long, Hayate?" The older woman asked as she adjusted her jacket.

"Well, I was coming back from the police station after giving the report, and there was this old woman, see, and she needed help carrying her groceries because it was _so_ heavy and—"

"Let me guess," Benibachi said idly. "You offered to carry the bags for her, brought her home and, before you could leave, you were offered some tea and biscuits as a sign of gratitude?"

Hayate looked at her with wide, unblinking eyes. "How did you know? Were you following me?"

"There are some crumbs on your cheek." Benibachi paused as she turned the key, locking the door of their small office. "Also, I know you well enough to guess what you've been up to."

They walked in silence, the patter of Benibachi's sensible shoes and Hayate's sneakers the only audible sound in the hallway. They nodded to a few tenants downstairs in the second floor, continuing downwards with neither speaking a word.

The sun-streaked detective shifted her gaze slightly to stare at her young charge thoughtfully. The child had stumbled into her office, just eight months ago, wearing nothing more but a hospital gown and a blank, downcast expression. She had no memories whatsoever. The only clues on her person were the hospital tag wrapped around her left wrist and a crumpled-up piece of paper in her right hand with the address to Benibachi's office. Benibachi turned sideways to let someone pass by and hurried down the last flight of stairs, touching Hayate's shoulder to slow her down. The young girl flinched and twisted abruptly. "A-ah, Sensei," she sputtered and touched the door's latch to steady herself. "You surprised me a little." A silly grin hid her unease, though it was too late. Benibachi had taken note of it already.

"Slow down, runt," Benibachi growled. "You're giving this old woman a heart attack from all that running around."

Concern filled the kid's gaze. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine."

"Oh. I'm sorry for walking too quickly, I guess," Hayate said, shamefaced. "Would you like to hold my elbow so you won't fall accidentally? It'd keep me from going fast, coz you know I do that un-unconcernedly."

"Unconsciously," Benibachi corrected automatically.

"What?" Hayate looked perplexed.

"Never mind," Benibachi said, sighing. Hayate offered her arm. "And I'd rather not, kid. I'd have to stoop to reach your arm."

"I am not _that_ short!"

From the grins they exchanged, Benibachi knew that Hayate wasn't offended.

The foot traffic was lighter than Benibachi had expected. They managed to catch the eight o'clock train just in time, settling in the back seats of a compartment. Hayate soon gave up her seat for an elderly man with osteoarthritis, his red-rimmed eyes crinkling from a small, grateful smile. The trip home was almost uneventful, if not for Hayate who suddenly collapsed just as the train lurched into motion once more, two stops away from their home district. She fell into a young woman's arms, her face contorted in an expression of pain, blood trickling down her nose. Maki Kamijou, who had just left the hospital that day, looked down at the girl in her arms, dismay etched across her pretty face. _Why do I have a feeling I'll be seeing Yukari twice today?_


	2. Idiot Thieves

**Chapter Two – Idiot Thieves**

Ayana tugged at her bow tie, grimacing at the tightness of it, and repositioned the silver platter she carried with one hand. _This,_ she thought crossly, _better be worth it._

Her eyes drifted to a figure clad in blue and silver, before she turned away to deliver a glass of wine to a balding, middle-aged man with an aquiline nose and a pudgy chin. His lecherous eyes slithered through the crowd, caressing the curves of one youth before jumping to another, still choosing a snack that would _satiate _his hunger. Ayana itched to dump her entire plate on his head but resisted the temptation. The man who took a seat besides the corpulent lecher was as thin as his companion was fat. This would be the Lord of Kinsen district. The prominent scar trailing downwards on one cheek and the dark soulless eyes were key features that made this man so identifiable. The other scar—the one that ran down the base of his skull and across his shoulder—was the one that Yukari had given him, Ayana remembered with grim satisfaction. It was still a dark shade of pink and healing.

She did her best to fade into the background, keeping her movements slow and unobtrusive. She and Natsuki were not well-known in the underground world of thieves and con artists, but she didn't want to take any chances. She had been in a relationship with Yukari for the past year. Though they had kept it quiet, it was hard not to escape notice from some of Yukari's more observant enemies. She hoped none of them would connect her to the daughter of the Chief of Police.

"A lively group tonight, eh, m'lord?" Lecher said, grinning lopsidedly, his bulging cheeks jiggling in merriment.

"A lively group indeed," Scarface agreed, his eyes alert, though his manner appeared relaxed. "Here's to hoping that tonight's auction will be a success." He raised his glass and sipped delicately.

"Aye." Blood-red wine slid down Lecher's cheeks as he took a hearty gulp from his own glass. "Ye got yer eye on anything in particular, m'lord?"

Scarface's eyes crinkled in amusement. "A man does not give his secrets to another, Yoshirou. If I had told you which items I would like to acquire, why, you would do your best to inflate the price of those objects." He raised his chin, white teeth flashing in a brief smile. "Best to keep my interests ambiguous."

"Aye," Lecher sighed theatrically, "you caught me, m'lord. This nasty little thief is no match to your sharp wits, I'm afraid. I am as dull as a hammer, and just as blunt. My tact is somewhat lacking, you might say. I need lessons in discourse before I can extract some juicy information from another."

"I commend you for acknowledging your faults, old friend," drawled Scarface. "Though if I may impart a bit of advice?"

"Of course, sir. I welcome it with open arms." Lecher raised his hands, spilling a bit more wine.

"Do not speak of your faults to others. If they learn of your weaknesses, they will use it against you. You have been forewarned."

"As ever, m'lord, you are correct." Lecher said soberly, catching a courtesan with one beefy arm and pulling her down his lap. "Which is why I would like to propose something—if you'd like to hear it."

"Give me the elevator pitch, good man. I have not all night to listen to your blabber, and from the looks of it, neither have you." Scarface eyed Lecher's roaming hands with apparent displeasure.

"If you will teach me or my lad the proper techniques at extraction, I will take you as my liege. My district is yours."

"Who would want your poor district, Yoshirou?" Scarface asked disdainfully. "No; if you want lessons from me, you will have to put more in the table."

Ayana left the two to their bargaining, choosing instead to re-enter the kitchen to refill her pitcher. When she stepped back into the main hall, she climbed up the steps into the second floor, pouring some wine to those who asked for another glass. Natsuki, who had been discussing the current politics in Gazth-Sonika, caught her eye and inclined her head.

"Any interesting news," Natsuki murmured as Ayana refilled her drink.

"Besides a possible alliance between the Lords of Kinsen and Heta district? Nothing really," Ayana replied.

"Like Kinsen would let a rat of a man clean his boots, let alone create an alliance with him," Natsuki spoke sharply. Natsuki had made a habit to call the lords of the underworld by their district name as it was easier to remember them that way. Ayana preferred using traits that best described them. "Heta would have to give more—a lot more—before Kinsen would even think to treat him as a normal human being."

Ayana made a humming noise nonchalantly, and left Natsuki's side to listen to another group of gossipers. It was still a couple of hours before the auction began. They might as well take that time to gather information concerning underground activity.

From among the shadows, a young woman watched the two, her glasses glinting predatorily despite the poor light. She wore a white pristine uniform without a single wrinkle on it, her long dark hair tied in a ponytail. She adjusted her glasses with her pointer and middle fingers, a slight smirk gracing her lips. She reached for a wine glass elegantly—

—and the static that erupted in her left ear almost made her drop the glass. A waiter who was holding onto a silver platter with the drinks looked at her oddly and shook his head, rolling his eyes when he saw who it was: Tatewaki Hikaru. She was the Great Lady Zhang's pet. A chess master who could win against just about anybody—this girl was rather full of herself and had very poor social skills. The waiter forgot about her almost immediately, used to her strange antics.

"_Tatewaki, have you found our…friends yet?" _A voice crackled in her ear. Hikaru's heart sank.

"Yes I have, Miyamoto-san," she murmured before taking a sip of the wine. It had a sharp taste and made her grimace.

"_Any problems, Hikaru-san?" _The other voice asked with just a hint of a smile to her tone. Hikaru thought the voice sounded heavenly.

"None at all, my lady," Hikaru added hastily, hoping that Miyamoto-teme had left the Comm lab to do some trivial servant-type work for Hitsugi-sama, so that she could be left alone with her beloved master—or at least, as alone as one could be in these circumstances.

"_Proceed as planned, Tatewaki," _commanded the wretched voice of one Miyamoto Shizuku in her ear. _"We'll see you in 22 hundred hours."_

Hikaru let out a despondent sigh and left the glass at a table nearby. Though she knew her value to the great Hitsugi-sama, she couldn't help but wish that sometimes _she_ was in the same room as Hitsugi-sama, acting as her bodyguard, instead of lurking in the shadows of a run-down hotel, mingling with the denizens of the underground. But there were two women to be recruited, and she didn't have the time right then to muse about her misfortunes. It was time, she knew, to get back to work.

* * *

><p>"You needn't worry, Benibachi-san," the doctor spoke calmly. "Your young charge is in the pink of health. Whatever caused her to faint and have a nosebleed must have already disappeared from her system."<p>

Benibachi raised both eyebrows, bemused. "And I'm just supposed to accept that?" She asked dryly.

The doctor, a middle-aged man with greying hair, opened his mouth to answer and closed it again, his lips becoming a thin line of displeasure. "You don't seriously expect me to name you a disease based on those two symptoms alone?" He snapped.

"I expect you to act like this isn't such a common-day occurrence."

"Nosebleeds can occur due to a dry climate," he explained crisply. "Fainting can occur due to a decreased blood flow to the brain. Both symptoms may arise due to a different number of reasons. Shall I expand further? Would you like me to list to you_ every_ single possible disease that can be connected with these two symptoms?"

"No," Benibachi answered tightly, "but I appreciate the offer."

Stiffly, the doctor gave a short nod and exited the room, frowning with annoyance. Behind him, Benibachi resisted the urge to make a face, turning her attention to Hayate instead. The young child was sleeping peacefully despite the heated conversation, much to her relief. She stroked the Hayate's hair with gentle fingers and sighed. _You really need to stop giving me a heart attack, luv._ _I am not as young as I once was._

Hayate's eyes fluttered open. "Ah, Sensei." She grinned almost immediately, though her eyes still bore the sleepy quality of one who had just woken up. "I didn't know you were so affectionate with your subordinates."

Benibachi grinned back, relief lightening the weight on her chest. "Only you would think of such a cheeky way to start a conversation, runt."

* * *

><p>Isuzu, Momoka knew, was not much of a conversationalist. In fact, if one were to compare these two women, one would find that there were very few similarities between the two. Momoka was loud and outgoing—the kind of person who didn't think through her actions and liked to tackle her problems through sheer force of will. Isuzu, on the other hand, was quiet and meek. She was also superstitious and paranoid about plenty of things, rarely going out of the house unless she absolutely had to. Isuzu's idea of fun was poring over books about the uncanny. Momoka's idea of fun was playing sports, running around, and generally <em>not<em> staying still_._ Isuzu liked cats. Momoka liked dogs. Isuzu couldn't eat spices if her life depended on it, and Momoka ate spices like it was her lifeblood. Still, even with their various differences, they managed. Momoka couldn't imagine what life would be like otherwise.

Unfortunately for her, bloody stupid Kijimiya was standing in the way of their epic friendship, like a bloody stupid roadblock when she might as well be bloody stupid roadkill in Momoka's opinion.

Liquid trickled down her left hand, dripping onto the floor. She looked down and realized that she had unconsciously crumpled the soda can. She cursed.

"Are you alright?" Isuzu asked, looking at her worriedly, already half-standing from her position behind the massive desktop Momoka had helped her install in their tiny living room just a few months ago.

"Fine," she growled in reply. "I'm fine." She reached for a paper towel to wipe the mess. She didn't notice Isuzu's presence until she felt insistent hands prying the deformed can from her fingers. She met Isuzu's soothing gaze and flushed. "Ah. Y-you didn't have to."

"If there's something wrong, you need only to talk to me," Isuzu spoke gently.

"I was just thinking about a certain someone," Momoka admitted.

"From the police station?" Isuzu teased, throwing the can and the paper towel in the rubbish bin.

"Ye gods no," Momoka growled. "I don't think I'd last a day in the force if she was there."

Isuzu raised her eyebrows. "Ah. So it is Kijimiya who is in your mind." She smiled uncertainly. "The two of you seem fairly close."

Momoka sputtered and tried to protest, but Isuzu had already gone back to her computer, and was typing furiously once more, her fingers flying across the keyboard with monstrous ease. Momoka's lips became a tight, thin line. She breathed slowly, clenching and unclenching her fists, and sank on the couch, looking up at the ceiling dully. Isuzu wasn't much of a conversationalist, she knew, but there were times when she wasn't much of one either. She shifted her gaze to rest on Isuzu's still form. It wasn't so much because she was anti-social or sommat. It had more to do with her inability to talk to Isuzu specifically. Not that the girl was scary, mind. Momoka thought hastily. Sometimes, she just wasn't sure how to say certain things to her. "No, it's not what you think. Not with bloody Kijimiya, of all people." She wanted to say. "I just don't want her anywhere near you."

But what would Isuzu make of that? Momoka wasn't the type of person who got jealous if her friends had other friends. In fact, it would be nice if Isuzu had a few more. Momoka wasn't always there for her dear friend, and it would ease her mind a little if she knew that there were others who could visit Isuzu and made sure that she was feeling fine—happy even.

Kijimiya was different though. There was something almost predatory about her, something that made Momoka feel like Kijimiya might one day eat her friend. Of course, that was clearly unlikely. Kijimiya just didn't seem like the cannibal type to her.

That didn't stop her from continuing to feel wary whenever the other girl was around, however. Her instincts screamed at her to shield Isuzu somehow from this wicked woman, and her instincts were rarely wrong. Rarely.

The doorbell rang imperiously. Momoka closed her eyes and groaned. Today was a Saturday of all days—a day of _rest_. Couldn't that woman leave them alone for once?

* * *

><p>Alone, finally alone. Jun smiled down at her hapless victim—her grin wolfish, her eyes mischievous. She reached down and began to unbutton the other woman's blazer. The blouse came next, revealing pale, untouched flesh. She had almost removed the dress pants when she heard voices inside the spacious washroom.<p>

"What a pity! Did you hear the announcement, Naomi? Apparently, Mikado-san is getting married."

"I bet the bitch is as ugly as a dog. Why else wouldn't she be in the main hall when Mikado-san had made the announcement? He's probably ashamed to show her off."

"Language, language, Naomi. I'm sure she's just not feeling well like they said."

"Kaoru, that's just utter bull. Have you _seen_ that girl's uncle? He looks like a freakin' bullfrog for crying out loud. No doubt that girl is—"

"You do know that they're not even related by blood."

"They're not?"

"Yeah, why do you think he was so willing to hand over his niece in the first place? I'm surprised his sister-in-law agreed."

Jun climbed halfway up, squinting at the two women through the narrow slits of the stall. She rolled her eyes and waited for the two of them to exit the room before clambering over the stall and landing on the marbled floor, using her shoulder to muffle the sound of landing as she rolled to her feet. She straightened from her crouch and tugged at the edges of her borrowed blazer with gloved hands. She stared coldly at her reflection, her objective suddenly coming unbidden in her mind. It was time to get to work.

Slipping into the hotel had been easy—seducing one of the hotel's security guards even easier. Now would come the hard part.

She took the katana from its hidden location underneath the counter and adjusted her collar with her other hand. She stared hard at the door and whispered under her breath, "Let's roll."

There were two sentries outside the side hallway. She incapacitated them with practised ease, leaving the first with a broken jaw, and the second with a broken nose and a fractured arm. The elevator ride up proved uneventful, and when she reached the 6th floor, she was relieved to note that there were no guards loitering in that area. She didn't want to kill anyone if she could, save her intended victim.

Just the thought of that made her shudder. Jun had never killed before, except in self-defence, and the prospect of killing someone now in cold blood made her uneasy. It just didn't seem—_fair_. Sure she was getting paid generously for this, but she just couldn't imagine putting a price on a person's life. So they might have stolen a few high-profile art pieces, or recovered information from dangerous sources, but they had never once taken an assassination mission before. Not until now.

She took the single key she had received from her employer just a few hours ago—along with specific instructions on how to kill the girl—and gazed at the inscription hollowly: Room 612. She took a deep breath. Well, no time like the present.

She marched towards the room, slid the key in and turned it slowly, meeting no resistance whatsoever.

"Who's there?" An angry voice greeted her from the poorly-lit room. Jun unsheathed the blade she carried and brought her chin up to look at the woman she was about to kill.

Her eyes widened, her heart clenched tightly. For a moment, she almost forgot how to breathe.

"A hired killer?" The woman growled softly. "About time they sent one. I was beginning to grow bored."

Jun could hear the sound of another blade being drawn from its sheath. She tensed, her arms and legs sliding into a more stable stance. The target walked, bare-footed, into the lamp light, wearing a loose purple kimono and the most intense and beautiful expression Jun had ever seen. If she hadn't been staring so unashamedly, she might have missed a flicker of fear and doubt from the woman's face.

"Don't think I'll go easy on you."

Jun raised her hands and met the opposing blade in a resounding clash of metal against metal. She frowned, the feeling of uncertainty washing away the last bits of her resolve. She met the fierce gaze of the other woman and managed to whisper hoarsely, "Have I met you before?"

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Any future updates will be noted in my profile. Cheers.


	3. When Idiots Clash Blades

**Chapter Three – When Idiots Clash Blades**

"_Have I met you before?"_

"What kind of question is that supposed to be?" Shizuma Yuuho demanded, taking a step back and bringing her blade in an upward arc. Her assassin parried the sword effortlessly though her eyes never left Yuuho's face. The young heiress found it unsettling. She shook her head, trying to maintain her focus. "Never mind that—who sent you? My fiancé?" She spat the last word out as if it was too vile for her mouth.

"He didn't say. I didn't ask," was the short reply.

Yuuho's eyebrows knotted in sudden anger and her pace quickened. This woman appeared to be on the defensive—something which had boggled Yuuho. If she was a hired killer alright, then why did she seem reluctant to attack Yuuho? It just didn't add up.

"Damn," her assassin growled huskily when she realized she was being backed in a corner. She dodged the next swipe, widening her stance in a half-crouch and threw herself in a forward roll. Yuuho twisted her body and felt it protesting. She ignored the feeling and went after her 'attacker' bringing her sword down in a violent clash. For a moment they just stared at each other, their chests heaving, their faces flushed. Yuuho could even feel a slight trickle of sweat moving down her chin.

"Sigma?"

Yuuho blinked and took a few steps back. "Who's—?"

The door slammed opened behind her. Light spilled out from the hallway and before she could even move to see who had interrupted her, the other woman was running towards her and shoving her to the side, her blade whipping out to intercept the errant bullet that was meant for Yuuho. She swept the blade sideways, hitting another bullet and lunged forward, her katana biting the man's thigh. "Come on," the woman urged, tugging at Yuuho's arm. "Let's get out of here." She slammed her heel against his—Ryouichi's—knee and dropped the katana in favour of the gun which she had grabbed in midair. Her other hand slid downwards to grab hold of Yuuho's free hand. "Trust me."

Yuuho found that she couldn't say no. They ran together down the hallway and into the fire exit, taking the steps three at a time. She found her insides burning and tripped on her own kimono, crashing against her attacker-turned-saviour. They landed on the floor in a sudden, painful thud with Yuuho on top of the other woman. She found strong arms wrapped protectively around her and pushed away, looking at forest green eyes questioningly. "As much as I would love to get to know you better, Hime, I suggest that we get a move on," the woman murmured breathlessly.

Hime? Yuuho wondered as she shakily stood up. This woman had called her by another name before: Sigma. Why the sudden change?

She's right, you know. Yuuho berated herself silently. They had no time for such trivialities. They began running again at a slower pace. "Might I at least know your name?" She asked on impulse.

"Jun," the woman replied. "Kuga Jun."

They reached the bottom of the floor just as they heard steps crashing down from above. Kuga urged for her to move faster, but her weak body protested. Yuuho didn't know if she could last any longer. Kuga must have sensed that something was wrong because she had emptied the gun of its cartridge and had thrown it to the floor before sweeping her up, carrying her bridal style. "Humour me," Kuga whispered closely to Yuuho's ear, her lips grazing lightly against it.

It made Yuuho blush a ferocious red.

Before she could come up with a coherent reply, however, Kuga had kicked the door open and was running for dear life. What happened next became a mixture of blurs and heartbeats, of men shouting angrily and pointed fingers, and of cool breezes and the scent of cinnamon, leather and smoke invading her sense of smell. By the time she was no longer disoriented, she found herself clinging to Kuga's waist, a helmet covering her face. She wondered where they might be heading, but was too exhausted to ask. For now, all she cared about was keeping herself from falling off the motorcycle. Everything else could wait.

It was perhaps an hour later before the motorcycle began to decelerate, much to Yuuho's relief. The flight from the hotel had left her winded, and though she was no longer running, riding a motorcycle was an entirely new and terrifying experience to her—an experience she did not care to undergo again anytime soon. Kuga coaxed her from the motorcycle and all but half-dragged her back to what appeared to be a small apartment complex. She draped Yuuho on the couch before sitting on the floor with a pained grunt, rubbing her shoulder with her left hand. "Anything for you, Hime?" She drawled, fatigue evident in her voice.

Comfortable clothes? A glass of water? Sleep? Yuuho wanted to say. "Answers," she croaked instead. "I want answers."

"Ask away."

"Were you sent to kill me?" Yuuho asked sharply.

"Yes." There was no doubt to the answer—no hesitation.

"Then why didn't you kill me?"

Kuga smiled disarmingly, "Because it's against my policy to kill a pretty girl."

"Is that really the truth?"

"Partially," Kuga admitted. "I could say that I didn't want to kill you in cold blood. I could say that I had my suspicions about my employer's true intentions. I could say that keeping you alive was simply more appealing to me than leaving you to die. But although there is a bit of truth in each of those statements, the reason why I didn't kill you was because you reminded me of someone I used to know."

"Someone named Sigma," Yuuho spoke flatly. "Who _is _this Sigma?"

"My turn to ask questions," Kuga replied, her green eyes flashing with sudden intensity. "How come you didn't seem surprised when you saw me?"

Yuuho frowned, annoyed that Kuga had cut her off. "And why should I answer _your_ questions? You haven't answered mine yet."

"Because I decided not to kill you."

"And I should feel indebted to you? A killer?"

Kuga grimaced and looked away, her expression hurt. Yuuho felt her heart clench involuntarily and wondered why.

Finally, Kuga answered boldly, "I saved you, didn't I?"

Yuuho watched her with wary eyes. Who was this woman? At first, Yuuho thought that she was just an ordinary, if exceptionally-skilled assassin. However, from the way Kuga had reacted earlier, the name she had uttered, and her instinct to protect Yuuho—those were not mere coincidences. Whoever Kuga was, she knew something that she wasn't letting on. But what? Was she somehow connected to Yuuho? Surely Yuuho would have recognized her if that was the case.

Sigma. She had remembered the woman utter it before. This Sigma person must be important to her. It would explain why she was so hesitant to kill Yuuho in the first place. Yuuho eyed her warily, wondering how she could use Sigma to her advantage. Perhaps, she thought after a moment's pause, it would be beneficial for me to play to her tune for a while. "I expected a killer tonight." Yuuho finally admitted.

Kuga raised an eyebrow at her, mild surprise evident in her expression. "Go on."

"I didn't want to get married to Ryouichi." Yuuho said plaintively. "I was very much against my uncle's proposition. In fact, I was planning to arrive late and publicly announce that the arrangement was off—that it was a forced marriage that I had not agreed to _at all_," she growled fiercely. "Someone of his intelligence would have deduced that much at least and would have had me assassinated. At the very last minute, he would have arrived to rescue me, stopping the cold-blooded killer in time, and convincing my mother that being married to him was to the best of my interests. He would have said that I had inherited a lot of my father's enemies, and that what I needed the most right now was a protector—a husband."

"Clearly you don't agree with him," Kuga spoke, grinning wolfishly. "So what do you plan to do now?"

That question had thrown Yuuho off. "Pardon?"

"Obviously, you're not going back to your would-be husband. So what do you plan to do? Live here with me?" Her grin widened, her tone bordering on lewd. "I don't mind—even if it means sharing a room with you."

Yuuho flushed, and before reason could overcome impulse, she had already grabbed a thick, heavy hardbound book from a side table and had hurtled it towards Kuga. The smirking woman caught it deftly with one hand, her eyes never once leaving Yuuho's.

"Nice throwing arm."

A few metres behind Kuga, the door exploded in a rain of splinters and slivers of wood, embedding themselves deeply on the ground and on the ceiling.

"Fuckin' hell! I didn't know this gun had so much kick in it." Yuuho heard someone protest.

"Hmph."

Yuuho turned to look back at Kuga, but the girl had suddenly disappeared in that short interval. "Ku—" She stopped what she was about to say when she saw her saviour reaching for a katana under the table—just how many did she have?—and slowly pressing her back against the wall, peering cautiously at the now-broken front door.

The first woman to step inside had a roughened, gangly look about her, all sharp edges and unruly clothes—her lips upturned in a permanent sneer. The next who followed had similar features, though hers were far softer, her black, wavy hair almost making her appear _womanly_. Both carried massive guns.

Yuuho tensed at the sight of those weapons. But what could she do? She didn't have a sword with her, and even if she had a gun right now, she never had the opportunity to learn how to use it. Hide—that was what she needed to do. She looked around quickly and scrambled down to the floor on her knees. She took long, cautious breaths, cursing Ryouichi for the hundredth time that day for making her wear a kimono in the first place. Moving around in it would be a task in itself, and there was very little space for manoeuvrability in this room. But what else could she do?

"Well, lookie what we have here." Yuuho stiffened in sudden fear. Had they found her already? "The fuck do you think this is, Nancy?"

"It appears to be a complex security system," the one named 'Nancy' replied casually.

"Well bloody freakin' hell, woman! Why don't you do something about it? Do you want us to be caught by the cops or sommat?"

Nancy snorted. "Stop being so jittery, you idiot. You needn't worry. By the time the cops get here, we'll be long gone. Unless you doubt our abilities. What's a punk?"

"Violence! Disorder! Anarchy and chaos!" The other woman barked without a second's thought.

"Who's a punk?"

"Me!"

"Good. So you should have no problems pissing the police off, right?"

"Yes, but—"

"But what?"

"It's different," was the stubborn reply.

Yuuho heard more incessant cursing, followed by a loud, sudden crash. "They have a freakin' iron maiden, Nancy. You know—like that band!"

"It's not quite an iron maiden," Kuga spoke, making Yuuho's heart beat a little faster in what she hastily labelled as 'hope' blossoming in her chest. It was certainly not because Kuga didn't sound really heroic at that moment—certainly _not._ "But you could say that our little trap was _inspired_ by it."

Yuuho, who could hide no longer, moved to her knees and took a peek from behind the couch. Part of the barrier that hid the front door had separated and embedded itself against the wall. Their two attackers stood a few hand-spans away, breathing heavily and eyeing it with a bit of trepidation. Kuga was standing behind the rough-looking woman, lightly pressing the katana against her cheek.

Yuuho had to admit, Kuga looked pretty cool at that moment.

Suddenly, Kuga shifted her katana so that she held it at an odd angle. With a sweep of her leg, she sent the rough-looking woman stumbling forward, jumping on her back and over Nancy to land behind the other woman. Her katana clanged angrily, grating against the big gun that the woman carried. Nancy had intercepted her attack in time. Kuga took a few steps back, assessing her situation quickly. She grabbed the tanto from a bootstrap and threw it at Nancy, missing her throat by a few inches. Behind Nancy, the other woman yelped. The tanto had slammed against her shoulder, making her let go of her weapon.

"Are you alright, Shidou?"

"Hell no! That damned fucker freakin' hit me with a knife."

"It could be worse. You could be dead," Nancy muttered icily. She hoisted her gun and aimed for Kuga but found that she could not get a clear shot. Kuga had jumped at an angle from the metal railing just outside and slammed against her. Nancy fell back and hit Shidou who landed on the ground, groaning loudly.

Nancy scrambled to her feet and reaching for her gun when she felt the cold press of metal against her cheek. She moved her face a little and met Yuuho's determined eyes.

"I may not be an expert when it comes to guns, but like most people, I know where the trigger is." Yuuho spoke calmly. "So I suggest that you keep still while my friend here ties you up."

"That won't be necessary."

Yuuho spared a glance at the newcomer and saw a woman standing behind Kuga, carrying two katanas. A white band encircled her forehead, though it did nothing to keep the strands of dark red hair out of her face. She wore a grim expression.

Kuga, who reacted by instinct, turned around to swing her blade towards this new enemy and was efficiently disarmed. Yuuho blinked her eyes a few times in wonderment. She had only seen the woman twitch her wrist a little. Was she really that fast?

No, it couldn't be.

"What do you want from us?" Yuuho demanded and realized that she had used the word 'us'. Did that mean that she saw Kuga as an ally? She frowned and pushed that thought away. There was no time for trivial thoughts. Instead, she added, "Did Ryouichi send you?"

"I don't think he can afford me," the woman replied blandly. "Besides, I only serve one master."

"Yeah, she's Amachi's bitch," Shidou murmured.

"Watch your tongue," Nancy growled, "or Miyamoto-san will rip it out of your mouth before you can even say the word 'punk'."

"Oh, but, Tonami-san, I am far more civilized than that," chided the one named 'Miyamoto', shifting her weight from one foot to another in a show of discomfort.

"_What_ do you want from us?" repeated Yuuho evenly, frustrated at being ignored by these people.

"We _were_ supposed to kidnap Kuga-san," Miyamoto answered, "but since you're here, we'll have to kidnap you as well. Security measure, you understand—we don't want any unnecessary problems."

Yuuho was about to protest when she felt a sharp sting on her neck. Everything began to look blurry. She felt her movements turn sluggish and tried to back away but rough hands had grabbed her shoulders, stopping her from any further movement, and dragged her forward against her dwindling will. The light dimmed until she could no longer make anything out. Voices became more distant, until all was silent. The last word she heard was, "Hime!" before the darkness swallowed her whole.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Just a quick heads up: the next chapter will be about the other characters, set at an earlier time. As always, updates will be mentioned in my bio.


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